The rest of the story is full of shaky, barely-there memories. Drug fueled memories. The blurry, furry memories of the clinically insane. It was a dark time occasionally punctured by moments of astonishing happiness.

She fell for him the way he had fallen for her long ago. And though she spent her nights wandering through empty streets and deserted parks, he always found her. Always wrapped her in safety and brought her home again. A new home. A better home.

Things were not how she expected them to be, but in the chaos, she had found an imperfect perfection.